Ill-Fitting Suits
by jessepinkmanincident
Summary: David Fisher does not like funerals. He likes boys.


David thinks he likes a boy.

It's strange for him. He's used to his brother, Nate, liking girls.

Nate wearing suits and ties to funerals he otherwise wouldn't care about.

Nate hugging teary-eyed girls in their tight black dresses.

Nate having sex in a casket, whispering, "I think I've died and gone to heaven," a girl's laughter floating up, the whole ordeal frightening David, who was seven at the time and unaware of such things, and who ran to his parents, screaming that Nate was wrestling a ghost in one of the coffins.

No, David is not used to liking boys. He is used to disliking his older brother, who likes girls a little too much.

And David is used to dreading the funerals that take place beneath his bedroom. The weeping that seeps up through the floorboards. The knowledge that right below his bed, there is a coffin. Once, he convinced Nate to help him drag his bed to the other side of the room, so he wouldn't feel like an echo of the dead body below him.

He does not like the funerals.

He does not like the sad strangers.

He likes this boy in his ill-fitting suit.

They are both standing in the corner of the funeral home, hands in their pockets, ties hanging loosely around their necks. Neither of them look like they belong. David's hair is too long. The other boy is fidgeting. His feet are the only thing moving in the stiff room. And his eyes are looking everywhere. Everywhere except for David. And the coffin. No, he won't look at the coffin.

"Who's in there?" David whispers, nodding towards it.

"My grandpa," says the boy, and his voice is too loud, and in the front of the room, a woman glances over her shoulder, frowns at him. He looks down.

"Did you see him a lot?"

"Yeah. Every week. He taught me to play cards."

"Yeah?"

The boy nods.

"My grandpa died, too."

"At least he was old," says the boy. "He was supposed to die."

"No," says David, shaking his head. "He was supposed to play cards."

The boy smiles, blushes. He finally removes his hands from his pockets to reveal a pack of playing cards. They are worn out, the diamonds and hearts fading away. "These were his. Do you want to learn?"

David has never played cards in his life. He knows Nate plays, can tell whenever he does. He'll either come home grinning or yelling. If he wins, he waves money in the air, lets it rain down all around them. If he loses, he throws something. It bothers their parents. It impresses David. He'd give anything to be able to feel that kind of emotion, loud and boiling in his heart. What is it like to feel so strongly?

"Sure," he says, and leads the boy into the other room. "I'm David, by the way."

"I'm Ben."

Ben has soft, thin hands that glide easily through the cards. Not like David's thick fingers with their bitten nails. Ben is all grace. In playing cards, the stress seems to seep away. He talks about his grandfather.

Wednesday nights in the kitchen with Frank Sinatra playing. Grandpa Joe teaching him how to dance, encouraging him whenever he tripped, assuring him that if whoever he danced with loved him, they wouldn't care about his clumsy steps.

Sneaking packs of gum back in forth in church, trying to see who could blow the biggest bubble and pop it the loudest.

His grandfather's energy slowly slipping away, until one night he fell asleep in his armchair while playing cards, and he did not wake up. Ben had been there. He'd pressed his small hand to Grandpa Joe's chest and felt nothing.

"I just wish there was someone who could make me forget," he says, staring down at the cards in his lap.

"You have me," says David.

It's his first kiss.

They are just two boys in wrinkled suits, across the hall from a funeral, holding each other's ties like they've been doing this all their lives. The air is hot and sticky. Ben runs his hands through David's hair and David wonders if his grandfather is looking down on them. He probably wouldn't care. He'd probably smile.

They cling to each other.

They feel as if they are the only people living in this dark, musty place.

 _So this is what it's like to feel strongly about something_ , David thinks.

When the funeral ends, Ben slips the ace of hearts into David's pocket. "Please don't forget me," he says. "I don't want to come back here, but I want to see you again, okay?"

"Yes," says David. The card feels heavy in his pocket. His heart feels heavy in his chest. "I can find your address in my father's books. I'll find you."

Ben smiles, hugs David, and follows his family outside. David stands in the open doorway. He touches the card in his pocket.

Though one man's life has ended, he feels that his is just beginning.


End file.
